


The Red Wolf

by Pretty_Little_MockingBird



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Older Man/Younger Woman, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretty_Little_MockingBird/pseuds/Pretty_Little_MockingBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is forced to marry Roose Bolton, after his wife Walda and his new born son were slain by his bastard. The Northern people won't submit so it's up to Sansa to appease them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



> This is probably going to be one of my longer works, and is a gift to the great TommyGinger. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and I apologize for spelling mistakes, punctuation, or grammar errors this was all written on my iphone.

There's a knock on the door of Sansa's bed chamber causing her to to pause from the her needlepoint. "Come in" she says as she stands and places her cloth on her bed side table.

Lord Baelish opens the door, quickly entering the room and closing the large door behind him. "Lady Sansa," his mouth smiles though his eyes betray him "I hear you are to be wed soon." 

She politely smiles though on the inside she's screaming for him to help her. "Yes, I leave to Winterfell on the morrow." 

He nods solemnly "I'll be accompanying you in fact." He says as he stalks closer to her. 

She sighs happily when he stands near, breathing in deeply the familiar minty sent she'd become accustomed to. "I had thought, Lord Baelish, that I would be married to you. As you had promised." 

He stroked slowly up and down her long pale arm, not meeting her eyes, "As did I, my lady. Though when I proposed the topic to the council, it was throughly shot down." 

The small smile she wore upon her lips due to his touch had fallen quickly. She told a deep sigh before saying "They don't need to give me to you, as they do in fact need to give me to the Boltons. The North doesn't truly see them as they saw Father, and now the crown wants to remedy that." She spoke softly and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was a fool to ever leave home." 

"Sweetling," Petyr moved his hand to her shoulder and pulled her down close to him, wrapping his arms around her. "We all make decisions in our youth that bear poor choices in our older years. Though you are correct for seeing the reason for the match."

She uncrossed her arms and brought them around her dear lover. "What can I say, I learned from the best." 

She knew her relationship with the master of coin had a time limit, she knew he wasn't in love with her not in the way songs depicted what love was at least, though he did protect her and kept her safe from Jofferys beatings by hiring the hound to be kind. 

So when that day, which seemed so long ago, when Petyr had pressed his lips against her own she chose not to questioned it. She simply mimicked his movements, though she was inexperienced at the time she tried with all her might to convey in that kiss how grateful she was to him, the man who tried to save her family and her. 

"You should get some sleep, sweetling. We have a long road ahead of us" he caressed her cheek gently with the back of his knuckles. For a moment Sansa thought she actually saw a gleam of happiness there. 

"As should you, Lord Baelish." Confidently she leaned a bit down and softly kisses his mouth. 

He returned the gesture but no more, instead he turned and went to the door, "Don't forget to dress warm sweetling. Winter is coming after all." 

And with that he left.   
\---------------------

The trip to Winterfell was an easy one, people everywhere stood in awe as they saw the last Stark of Winterfell ride through their towns. "The Red Wolf" some called her. She was a hero to them, the last of the Starks the true Warden of the North.

Petyr was still trying to find a way to prolong Sansa's engagement to Lord Bolton, there was still much he had to teach her. No doubt her beauty would sway Lord Bolton to her favor, though he was a cold man he was still a man. 

However bitter he was about being spurned by the court over Lady Sansa's hand, he still devised ways that would in the end put his Sansa on the throne.she was a Stark her name alone could chill the bravest to the bone and still ignite passion in the hearts of the northern men. 

All he had to do was plant seeds of thought and be patient. 

\-------------------

Roose awoke in the early morning turning to nudge his lady wife's plump body awake, but when his hand went through the cold morning air he let out a groan of deep irritation, his Wife, son, and bastard were dead. Though in mornings as early as these, it was easy to forget. 

His wife had been quiet in all regards with the exception of her sleep, it was then her unconscious body would make noises he thought would wake the Starks from death in the crypts. 

Lazily he draped his legs off the edge of the bed and sat himself up into a sitting position, he was to meet his new bride today and wanted to make a decent physical first impression. 

Roose knew the girl wouldn't trust him out right, he did betray and murder her family. But he had a plan that would hopefully gain a fraction of his bride's favor. Which then would mean the favor of copious amounts of people who were still fiercely loyal the the Stark name. 

He dressed quickly into his finest dublet, and made his way to the great hall where a large crate was sat behind a smaller one. He had heard from Queen Cerci that Lady Stark was fond of soft, lovely items and hoped a gift might set them off in the right direction. He only hoped his bride was smarter than her brother, and would actually listen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's Gifts, and Petyr's interaction with Roose

When Sansa arrived through her family’s gates she was surprised at how similar, yet still partly destroyed the castle was. As she rode to a halt before the man who is responsible for the death of her mother, her brother, and dear people who were loyal to her family. 

The idea of marrying this cruel man made her stomach clench and her heart ache. She shook her anxieties and fears and steeled her heart and her nerves. Roose is a dangerous man, but even he can be made to move in her favor. As she dismounted her horse Petyr made his way to her side and elegantly placed her hand over his and guided her towards her future husband.

His face was clean-shaved, smooth-skinned, ordinary, not handsome but not quite plain. Though Roose had been in battles, he bore no scars on his face. Though well past forty, he was as yet unwrinkled, with scarce a line to tell of the passage of time. His lips were so thin that when he pressed them together they seem to vanish altogether. There was an agelessness about him, a stillness; on Roose Bolton’s face, rage and joy looked much the same. His eyes are ice. Sansa wondered if he ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks? 

“Lord Bolton” Sansa says as she dips into a curtsy.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement then replies in a tone that isn't hostile yet wasn't kind either. “Lady Sansa.” 

\---------------------  
Petyr Still wasn't fond of the idea of sansa marrying a man he knew so little about, there were salacious rumors about his Bastard Ramsay and how he terrified those around him, and was rather sadistic to those the boltons held prisoner. Though the only story Pety had heard about lord bolton was that he enjoyed leaching, and was commoningly known as “The Leech Lord.” There was something off putting about his eyes, as he looked at sansa his eyes were paler than stone, yet darker than milk and they concealed much more than they told.

“Lord Bolton.” Sansa said, being ever the lady she was raised to be.

“Lady Sansa,” Roose replied in his soft, elegant voice “Welcome home.’ 

Everyone in the courtyard dared not speak a word, hope filled the eyes of many watching the last Stark. Though there was one girl staring with heated contempt at Sansa and at Roose. Petyr made a note to watch her closely 

“Come my lady, I suspect you're weary after your journey and I have a gift for your return.” Roose says to Sansa and offers his arm to her, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sansa hesitantly let go of petyrs arm and gracefully took Roose’s, as he led her inside the castle and took her to the room where the boxes were.

Sansa could hear a whimper and scratching from within the large crate, “My lord, what's inside that large crate?”

“Your gift my lady. You may go open them.” Roose says and releases her arm.

 

She looks at him suspiciously but smile politely as her curtseys require her to do “Oh, Thank you Lord Bolton.” she moves away from im and heads toward the vrate. As she gets closer she hears scratching from within. She cautiously opens up the large crate.

Petyr moves to where she was standing beside Roose and speaks to him in a soft voice she can barely hear.

Inside the crate is a small red pup, “A dog, my lord?” sansa asks carefully as she reaches in and pulls out a fluffy puppy with large brown eyes and a pink nose that's reaching toward her to sniff

“A wolf pup to be exact, my lady. The Greyjoy boy spoke to my bastard that ech stark had a wolf, but that yours had to be put down. I thought you might like the companionship.”

She held the pup close to her chest and inhaled its sent, this pup wasn't her Lady but none the less sweet. sansa thought as the wolf pup licked her cheek and made sweet little whimpering noises. “I love her, thank you my lord.” 

“My pleasure Lady Sansa, I Know simple gifts won't fix what's been broken though i do hope to attempt to mend it at least. You’ll not come to harm here.”

She kisses the pup's head and tries to calm the anger building in her, at least he's trying to be decent. “Thank you my lord, I would like to retire to my room though. It's been a long day.” 

“Of course,” she signals for one of the the ladies cleaning a table to take sansa to her room “Supper will be soon, by the way. There will be a feast in your honor my lady.”

Sansa smiles and follows the young servant to her room. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

When sansa approached the crate Petyr stepped in her place beside Lord Bolton “She really is lovely.” he says softly judging Roose’s reaction

“I hope I can make her happy.” Roose replys indifferently as he watches Sansa delicately pick up the wolf pup.  
Sansa is kind in receiving her gift, and Petyr carefully watches how Roose and Sansa interact, he quite surprised that the “Leech Lord” would be so kind as to give a gift.

Sansa wishes to retire to her room, to which Lord bolton lets her go. As Sansa leaves petyr turns to face Roose, hoping to learn more of the dangerous man. “I hope so too. I've become quite fond of Lady Sansa during our travels together. She’s suffered enough.”

“ I'll never hurt her. You have my word.” Roose says with almost a glimmer in his eyes and his lips twitch almost to a smirk, but quickly it's replaced by his usual blank yet displeased face 

“I've heard very little about you. Which makes you quite a rare thing, as lords go.” Petyr says

“I'm forever in your debt.” 

“You seem quite pleased.” 

“Shouldn't I be?”

“ I assure you she's still a virgin. Tyrion never consummated the marriage. By the law of the land, she's no man's wife. Inspect her, if you must.”

“ I leave that to the brothel keeper. It's her name I need, not her virtue.”

“ I have delivered everything I've promised.” 

“And you prepared for the consequences. When the Lannisters hear I've been to wed Sansa Stark-”

“The Lannister name doesn't mean what it once did. Tywin is dead. He kept his house in power through sheer will. Without him, Jaime has one hand and no allies, Tommen is a soft boy, not a king to fear.”

“ The Queen will be enraged.”

“ Queen Margaery adores Sansa. Cersei is Queen Mother, a title whose importance wanes with each passing day.”

Roose pulls a slip of parchment out from his coat, “A message for you, from Cersei Lannister. A rider arrived from Eyrie, shortly before dawn. Apparently, she thinks you're still in the Vale.”

Petyr glares at Roose slightly, ”A message for me, you say. Strange that the seal is broken.”

Roose grins “ I'm sure you understand my position, Lord Baelish. If you received word in the night from the Queen Mother, it does make me question our new alliance. Lannisters made you one of the great lords of Westeros. Yet, here you are in the North, undermining them. Why gamble with your position?”  
“Every ambitious move is a gamble, my lord you gambled when you drove a dagger into Robb Stark's heart. It appears that your gamble paid off. You're Warden of the North.”

“I had Tywin Lannister backing. Who supports me now? You?” he scoffs

“The Eyrie is mine, and I gave you the key to the northern man's loyalty you have the lost Stark The houses of the north will flock to you. The last time the lords of the Eyrie formed an alliance with the lords of the North, they brought down the greatest dynasty this world has ever known. I'd like to borrow one of your birds. Cersei will expect a reply.”

“ I'd like to read the reply.” Roose says as he turns away from him and strides confidently away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding of Roose Bolton and Sansa Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some smut! if you have any comments, questions or prompt please comment or message me on tumblr

-Time skip to the wedding night, Petyr stays to give Sansa away to Roose, smutty time occur-

As Sansa makes her way down the snow covered path to the godswood, she sees a lady with wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, she’s tall, unbent and handsome. Her hair is equal parts brown and grey, wearing it tied behind her head in a widow's knot. She’s dressed in black, no other color adorning her lengthy frame. 

“Barbrey Dustin.” Petyr says softly to sansa, “friend of Roose’s”

They stop just before Lady Dustin and Roose, fear wraps itself around Sansa’s heart, Petyr will be leaving tonight, and she will be left alone with the man that betrayed her family.

Barbrey steps forward between sansa and roose, “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”

“Sansa of the House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?” says Petyr loudly and confidently.

Roose steps forward, “Roose of House Bolton. Warden of the North, Lord of the Dreadfort and Winterfell. Who gives her?

Petyr squeezes sansa’s hand and responds “Petyr of House Baelish, Lord of Harrenhal, Master of coin and an old family friend of house Tully and Stark.”

Indifferently Lady Barbery asks “Lady Sansa, will you take this man?”

All eyes of those who have gathered focused on her, sweat develops on the nape of her neck and a blush make it way up her neck, Winter is coming but it feels like the middle of summer in the west for her under her heavy dress. She steps forward releasing Petyr’s arm trusting this decision was one well made.

“I do.” she says with as much courage as she can muster.

She smiles as Roose recites the same as she did, though her mind could not be farther away from this moment, she’s remembering having snowball fights here with her siblings and father, she's remembering the first time she saw Joffery, and how in love she thought she was and how happy she was to leave home and be his wife, she remembers her father's head falling to the ground in the sep of Baelor. She remembers when her heart hardened and she stopped believing life was a song of love. 

She’s taken from her thoughts when Roose places his lips on hers, muscle memory from her kisses with Petyr takes over and she kisses Roose back.

The kiss is short but she swears when her eyes open she saw almost a smile upon Roose’s lips, but in an instant it's gone.

Roose and Sansa are escorted to their bed chamber, to her mother and father’s bed chamber. Tears well in the corners of her eyes as she looks around the room, she tries hard not to remember all the nights she’d spent in here with her mother and father after a terrible nightmare, about all the times she would lie in their bed and her mother would recant her with a tale of princes and princesses and how her father would someday find a perfect match for her, and she’d live to be happy and olf with many babies. How wrong could she have been.

“Are you alright, my lady? You’re quite quiet.” Roose inquires as he loses his doublet with on hand and pour some wine with the other.

“Oh, yes. I apologise Lord Bolton.”she says and turns to him, and assists with undoing the laces of his doublet. 

He drinks his wine and is quiet for a moment, “You may call me Roose, only in private however.”

She pauses from undoing his doublet and looks up at him, and smiles sweetly “ and you may call me Sansa, Roose.”

He nods ands finishes his drink and finishes undoing the doublet, “I trust youve been instructed on how the night of the wedding proceeds yes?”

She nods “Yes, though I have never done it before.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roose hummed in acknowledgement as he walked around behind her, sitting on the bed, He reached around her waist and slowly pulled her to him, lifting her onto his lap. He held her loosely but she didn’t move. There was something indescribably delicious about the weight of her body on top of his. It made him hard instantly.

“You have a lovely voice, Sansa I would enjoy it if you kept talking.” 

And so she did. Her voice reverberated through her spine and into his chest. Roose slid his hands over her, imagining what her bare skin felt like beneath the thick wedding dress. With his hand he unbutton the dress carefully, until he was able to slip his hand under the fabric.

Her nipples were small and achingly hard as he covered her breasts with his hands. They were small and soft but with a delicious weight to them. He pressed his mouth to the back of her neck, just below her hairline. Her body shuddered and her voice cracked as she spoke about something to do with the making of her dress. 

she shifted a little to face him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes half-closed. she shifted again, straddling his lap and pressing her face into his neck. The heat of her mouth on his neck was so arousing. Her hands traveled, releasing their hold on his neck and fussing with the buttons of his under shirt. 

Cool palms smoothed over his bare chest and she lowered her head until he felt soft, hot lips close around a spot under his jaw. The heat made him gasp; her tongue flicked across it and made him hold his breath; and, when he felt the pressure of her teeth as she bit down gently, he couldn’t stop himself. He arched his hips and ground his cock against her. The lust that flooded through him forced a deep moan from his throat until she pressed her mouth on his and kissed him. 

A strange feeling overcame him, he worried she would just get up and leave. He didn’t want to scare her, and even as he wrapped his arms tight around her waist and pressed her flat against him, his mouth – perhaps because it was closer to his brain – was cautious, which he felt was stupid due to the fact they were now husband and wife, she'd have no where to go without him. 

He pressed the tip of his tongue between her lips. He needn’t have worried. She opened her mouth and took him in with a moan, sucking and stroking his tongue with her own.

Never one for much foreplay, his mind was begging him to fuck her. As his hips rose up over and over to press his cock into her fully clothed crotch in a futile attempt to obey, he could smell her wetness, soaking through her small cloths. 

The scent hit him like distilled lunacy. Hands on her hips, he pulled her down onto him and ground against her, believing somehow he would get to feel the hot wetness seeping from her cunt, if only he pressed hard enough.

He felt it in her mouth first – a certain delectable sloppiness in her kisses – and then the roll of her hips became even, fluid. Finally, she shuddered and mewed into his mouth. She was coming.

He held her tight and let her move on him. The only thing that stopped him from exploding in response was a strange, heartbreaking poignancy to the way she came. She didn’t flail or scream like some women he’d been with; it was intensely helpless – a series of soft, moth-like shudders. It made him feel so responsible.

This time, her kiss felt different. Intense and yet quiet. He wrapped his arms around the bare skin of her back. It was cool to the touch and soft. His hands skidded across the surface and down the ridge of her spine.

Between them, he felt her undo the buttons he’d just done up and, with a sigh, she took off her dress and pressed her chest against his. Like her back, it was cool and when she moved her nipples grazed his skin.

Bending her backwards, he took one nipple, and then the other into his mouth. Her back arched as he sucked, her fingers running through his short blackish grey hair. Her scent washed up to him again and had the same effect as before. The blood rushed to his cock, making it throb like a pulse.

He kissed his way down her stomach and pulled down her small clothes. The smell of her was eating away at his brain, begging him to taste her, but they were in an impossible position. SO he flipped their position and laid her on the bed.he kissed her and moved his hand down to her cunt. She was so wet, his fingers slipped between her labia instantly.

Her response was just as immediate. Her hips thrust upwards, her whole frame shuddered, and she yelped like a pup. The sound cut through him like burning wire. With every slow stroke of his fingers, she made the same sound. It was so raw, so obscenely sexual; he thought that perhaps the sound alone would make him come.  
But the desire to push his cock into the hot, wet place in front of him was greater. He withdrew his fingers and pulled her upright, smearing her face with his hand before bringing her cheek to his mouth and sucking her juices off the skin.

If he fucked her now it would be over, and he didn’t want it to be over. He made a little noise of protestation when he felt her hands at the opening of his pants. She ignored it and pressed on, feeling her way under his clothes and curling her small, cool fingers around his burning cock.

“Gods, that feels good,” she whispered, sliding her hand along his shaft, over the sensitive head and back down. She met his gaze as she touched him and smiled.  
Roose’s mind raced. Her touch was unbearable; if she didn’t stop, he was going to come in her hand, He grabbed her by the wrist and made her stop. Still, he could feel himself throbbing in her grasp. Frantically, he tried to think of things that would slow him down.

“Ever been Leeched?” he asked in desperation.

Her lips curved into a lopsided smile. “No. You?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?.”

He swallowed hard and tried to regain control. “Frequent leechings are the secret of a long life. A man must purge himself of bad blood.” 

She nodded unsure how to respond and kissed him again, hard, and pressed her crotch against him. “Are we going to consummate our marriage now”

He arched his hips to take off his pants, she helped him tug them off. Naked, she straddled his legs again and looked down at him.

“Like this?”

The question, the way she asked it, made cock impossibly hard. “Yes,” he he said in a controlled voice, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her down until he felt the head of his cock slide between her pussy lips. If her skin had been cool, her cunt was the opposite. It was wet and burning as she eased herself onto him.  
He held her gaze for as long as he could and then let his eyes close. He heard her whimper and felt the muscles of her walls flutter around his cock. He was sure that at no time in his life had anything ever felt so good.

“Seven hells.” It was something between a groan and a whisper. It was all he could manage.

She replied without words, slowly moving her hips, her hands cool on his shoulders.  
When he opened his eyes again, hers were closed. He watched her lithe frame undulate above him. The musculature of her stomach rippled and fluttered as she moved, her small breasts shivered. Her mouth was ajar and her brows drawn. Every time she lowered herself to engulf him, she keened.

It was over already. He could feel his balls tighten and he gave up the fight and thrust up to meet her, pushing in deep enough to reach the end and feel his cockhead hit her cervix.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Are you coming?”

Roose tried to answer but he couldn’t. He nodded and gasped. Instinctively pulling her hips down hard as he arched.

She mewed quietly as he felt the first pulse of come shoot into her. Suddenly her cunt spasmed around him and she began to ride him faster. The sensation of coming as she squeezed his cock was exquisite; he felt the heat of his own fluids flood out around the base of it. Her body was twitching as the he spent the last of himself, and even in her silence, he knew she was coming. He pushed his fingers down into the wet mess between them and let them graze her clit as she moved.

She stopped with his cock buried in her, and shook. The stutters of her breath caught in her throat. Inside her, the contractions almost hurt him.

As they waned, she opened her eyes and looked at him unseeing, until finally the twitches subsided and he felt her world slide into focus.

She gave him a strange, uncertain grin.

He leaned up and pulled her head down to his mouth and kissed her head, then laid her down to the side of him. He didn't say anything as she nuzzled herself under his arm, soon after, they both fell asleep.


End file.
